out.
âOh, no!â
He is right behind her as she collapses into his arms. He takes one or two steps backwards but still manages to hold on to her. He looks at her face. Her skin has gone grey and her eyelids are fluttering. She is leaning heavily against him and there is nothing he can do but wait for her to recover. Moments later, Sita pushes herself up and tries to stand straight. Salah holds her by the shoulders and tells her to take a deep breath.
âAre you all right?â he asks nervously.
The young woman nods and, pointing across the street, turns her head away with a loud sob. Salah follows the direction of her finger to the butcher shop where a sheep has just been slaughtered, its head lying intact beside its lifeless body.
âItâs barbaric,â Sita says through her tears.
But Salah can think only of the feel of her body against his own, the suppleness of it and of the realization that it had disturbed him. A few days later, he finds out that Sita has returned home to India.
He spends much of his time indoors at first, going out only when Samir returns from work and the two of them would walk to the high street for some groceries or for a quick meal at the corner café. Eventually, Salah feels brave enough to go out on his own for a walk to the park or down to the train station to watch commuters pushing their weight through the turnstiles and scurrying up and down the stairs.
He discovers a new freedom in anonymity, in the studied indifference of the strangers who walk past him, their eyes pointing straight ahead, their stride confident anduninterrupted. It is also there in the apparent endlessness of this huge city, unbroken movement and a luring promise of novelty in its buzzing streets. He grows increasingly confident, venturing beyond the immediate neighbourhood of the house on most days, even risking a quiet hello at the newsagentâs where he buys his Arabic newspaper on the way home.
When Samir arrives from work one day and hands him a bus pass, Salah examines it slowly, rubbing a finger over the photograph heâd had taken at the automatic machine inside the railway station a few days before.
âItâs free, wherever you want to go,â Samir says, flashing a rare smile, both arms held wide open in front of him.
He begins to take buses everywhere, looking at the sign on the front of each of them as it approaches and quietly mouthing the strange-sounding names as he prepares to step on. He goes across town and back, through bustling commercial districts and untidy neighbourhoods that are very unlike the one he now lives in. He begins to feel as if the city has several hearts that beat separately, each at the centre of its own world.
Standing at the front door one chilly morning as he prepares to go out, Salah looks down the now familiar street, into the distance, and thinks of the roads back home that twist in and out of one another without apparent purpose, leading to untold journeys, catching sunlight in their wake.
âDo we live in the suburbs?â he asks Samir that evening.
âNo, of course not. Weâre right in the centre of town. You should know that by now, baba .â
While Salah has always excelled at athletics â his slim shape and long limbs help him run and jump with ease â the one thing he cannot do is swim. It is a source of constant embarrassment to him during his days at university since he is loath to admit that his body betrays him in some way.
One day, Salahâs athletics instructor decides to take his students to the beach.
âWeâll do a few laps and play some games in the water,â the instructor tells them. âIt encourages flexibility and endurance.â
Salah makes his way down to the stretch of rocky beach that is also part of the campus with a sinking heart. Once there, Salah is momentarily distracted by the activity around him. He and his fellow students have changed into their swimming
âOh, no!â
He is right behind her as she collapses into his arms. He takes one or two steps backwards but still manages to hold on to her. He looks at her face. Her skin has gone grey and her eyelids are fluttering. She is leaning heavily against him and there is nothing he can do but wait for her to recover. Moments later, Sita pushes herself up and tries to stand straight. Salah holds her by the shoulders and tells her to take a deep breath.
âAre you all right?â he asks nervously.
The young woman nods and, pointing across the street, turns her head away with a loud sob. Salah follows the direction of her finger to the butcher shop where a sheep has just been slaughtered, its head lying intact beside its lifeless body.
âItâs barbaric,â Sita says through her tears.
But Salah can think only of the feel of her body against his own, the suppleness of it and of the realization that it had disturbed him. A few days later, he finds out that Sita has returned home to India.
He spends much of his time indoors at first, going out only when Samir returns from work and the two of them would walk to the high street for some groceries or for a quick meal at the corner café. Eventually, Salah feels brave enough to go out on his own for a walk to the park or down to the train station to watch commuters pushing their weight through the turnstiles and scurrying up and down the stairs.
He discovers a new freedom in anonymity, in the studied indifference of the strangers who walk past him, their eyes pointing straight ahead, their stride confident anduninterrupted. It is also there in the apparent endlessness of this huge city, unbroken movement and a luring promise of novelty in its buzzing streets. He grows increasingly confident, venturing beyond the immediate neighbourhood of the house on most days, even risking a quiet hello at the newsagentâs where he buys his Arabic newspaper on the way home.
When Samir arrives from work one day and hands him a bus pass, Salah examines it slowly, rubbing a finger over the photograph heâd had taken at the automatic machine inside the railway station a few days before.
âItâs free, wherever you want to go,â Samir says, flashing a rare smile, both arms held wide open in front of him.
He begins to take buses everywhere, looking at the sign on the front of each of them as it approaches and quietly mouthing the strange-sounding names as he prepares to step on. He goes across town and back, through bustling commercial districts and untidy neighbourhoods that are very unlike the one he now lives in. He begins to feel as if the city has several hearts that beat separately, each at the centre of its own world.
Standing at the front door one chilly morning as he prepares to go out, Salah looks down the now familiar street, into the distance, and thinks of the roads back home that twist in and out of one another without apparent purpose, leading to untold journeys, catching sunlight in their wake.
âDo we live in the suburbs?â he asks Samir that evening.
âNo, of course not. Weâre right in the centre of town. You should know that by now, baba .â
While Salah has always excelled at athletics â his slim shape and long limbs help him run and jump with ease â the one thing he cannot do is swim. It is a source of constant embarrassment to him during his days at university since he is loath to admit that his body betrays him in some way.
One day, Salahâs athletics instructor decides to take his students to the beach.
âWeâll do a few laps and play some games in the water,â the instructor tells them. âIt encourages flexibility and endurance.â
Salah makes his way down to the stretch of rocky beach that is also part of the campus with a sinking heart. Once there, Salah is momentarily distracted by the activity around him. He and his fellow students have changed into their swimming
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